


What Could Have Been

by Farlaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Feels, Bad Ending, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Death, Depressed Hank Anderson, Drunk Hank Anderson, Everyone is Dead, Gen, Guns, Heavy Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Sad, Sad Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, This Is Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 06:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farlaka/pseuds/Farlaka
Summary: This is a rendition of the ending where Hank commits suicide after Connor dies many times and remains a machine. All I did was embellish the scene and add a few things to Hank's character. I hope you enjoy!





	What Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the second fan fiction I've ever written. I'm still a bit uneasy about how this sounds, so feel free to give me any feed back if you would like.

Hank had always found alcohol beautiful. The variety of rich reds and golds found in different drinks were enjoyable to appreciate. He was particularly fond of an old crystal wine glass he used to use. The crystal was cut in such a way that the light refracted from its facets created twinkling sparkles that danced and swam across his vision. He saved this glass for special occasions, considering the cup a small reward for his accomplishments. He never told many people about this, the absurd fear that appreciating the look of a drink might be seen as some kind of feminine action proved rather disheartening to his young, masculine pride.

Hank grabbed the neck of the bottle, pressing the cool glass to his lips and welcoming the familiar burn that followed. In the past, he might have taken a moment to admire the auburn liquid. Alcohol had long since lost its aesthetic appeal. 

His mind was clouded with the buzz of whiskey. It was getting harder to focus on any one given object. The washed out light of the city seeping through his window cast his kitchen in a dull, pale white and the bulb above his head burned weakly. There was an exhaustion deep in his bones that the liquor did little to satiate. Despite his hazy thoughts, his eyes kept drifting back to one object on the table. 

“Cole…”

A snap shot in time, his son’s smile forever frozen in place. That photograph haunted him. It was all too bitter of a reminder to what he once had, of what could have been. It seemingly taunted him, the bright stripes and soft features, Cole looked so peaceful. What he wouldn’t give for some peace…

Hank heard his front door open accompanied by the click of shoes. He didn’t bother looking up. 

“I was worried about you, Lieutenant. I came by to see if you’re alright.”

There was something off in Connor’s voice, his words were slow and deliberate, almost unsure. Several uneasy moments passed before Connor broke the silence. Hank's downward gaze moved back towards the picture before him. 

“You should stop looking at that photo, Lieutenant. Nothing can change the past, but you can learn to live again. For yourself… and for Cole…”

“You know, every time you died and came back… it made me think of Cole. I’d give anything to hold him again. But humans don’t come back.”

He didn’t even realize it himself at first. The first time Connor had died, it awoke something deep within the recesses of his core. He had been on the brink of tears, seeing Connor’s mangled body unmoving on the highway. 

Just like Cole.

That same night he had gotten himself silly drunk, toying with the idea of plowing a bullet through his brain before passing out. The next morning at Chicken Feed, that same shell of metal walked up and introduced themself, outfit prim and proper. Clean and professional, acting as if Hank didn’t just see his guts smeared across the road way. He screamed at Connor then, furious at his own foolishness for thinking that he was in any way similar to Cole.

It only got worse from there. Connor died again, and again, and again. Every single time hurt worst than the last. Like the photograph, Connor’s rebirth taunted him. The mere presence of the undying android gave a constant reminder of the limitations to humans. It only further served to drill in the notion that once the tendrils of death give their welcoming embrace, it’s over. It’s done. 

“I understand.”

Hank wanted to laugh, but he was far too weary.

“Now leave me alone. Go on, complete your mission since that’s all you care about.” 

Sparing a glance up, he saw an unnatural stiffness to Connor’s posture. His head was hung low and he looked almost sad. 

Almost.

“GET OUTTA HERE!”

Once his front door had shut, Hank’s hand firmly grasped the pistol. It gleamed dimly as he rotated it side to side, examining its ridges and grooves. He reminisced of a time when he once enjoyed such beauty. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A piercing crack sliced through the quiet night of Detroit, leaving an old dog wailing and an android wondering what could have been.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize if the pacing was bad or something, lol. I hope you liked it though! T-T  
> Again, feedback is always welcome!


End file.
